Don't look inside

I was going to fill up the tank on my way home. I'm running on less than a quarter tank. It's only Tuesday, so the gas prices would have gone up since Sunday when I planned to go along with a grocery run, but the wife did the Uber Eats thing instead. She's obsessed with some tv show I lost interest in six episodes earlier. How do I break the news to her?

I pull into the driveway at a quarter to six, ten minutes slower than usual. She'll be expecting me now, probably working on dinner. I turn off the engine, and I sit. I zone out for a couple of minutes, making it even more obvious to my wife that something is wrong. Do I tell her the truth? The truth isn't very exciting, but maybe that's for the best. She'll understand, right?

I step into the house with a hearty "Hi honey". I immediately kick off my shoes and put away my overcoat. "Hey! I got a surprise for you!" she says. Isn't it funny how fate giveth and taketh away? Hailey hands me a package. It's an old cardboard box wrapped in twine, and there's water damage on the bottom left-hand corners. "It smells kind funky, I wanted to just throw it away, but now my curiosity is too great! Open it!" she hands it to me, a big smile on her face in anticipation. I take hold of it, and bring the package close to my nostrils. She's right, the smell is quite awful. It has all our mailing info and it indeed has my full name on the package including my middle initial, but no return address. "How did you receive this? Did someone knock on the door?" I asked. "There was a knock - but - the package was laying on the doormat. There was nobody around on the street. Whoever dropped it was quicker than a cat." Hailey answered. I inspect the sides of the package, the only thing that stands out asides from the water damage were two stickers. One reads: "May fortune smile upon you" and the other and potentially more distressing read: "Do not open until Christmas" with the Christmas viciously scratched out. I don't understand what this means, but I get the feeling whoever sent this doesn't want me ripping this open just yet.

I put the package aside for a moment and confront Hailey. "Hales, I've got something important to tell you." I began. "Really? So important that it can't wait until after we see what's inside that thing? Unlike you, I've had to look at it for hours now." she said disapprovingly. I look back it, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the custom 'Do not open until' sticker. Do not open until what? Who sent this, and why today of all days? I head over to the utensil drawer and I pull out a knife. "You really want me to open this thing now? Fine!" I said, practically stomping my way back to her side. "Whoa, why so hostile? What's so damn important you have to act like a dick? Is it bad news?" she asked, crossing her arms and stepping away from me. I look at the knife in my hand, her body language speaking volumes. I put the knife down, and take a deep breath. "Hailey, I..." my cell phone starts buzzing and shaking in my pants, not the best timing.

"Can you reject it and call the number back please?" Hailey asked frustratedly. "No, I gotta take this. I have a feeling it's extremely important." I swipe up on the phone icon. "Hello, this is Nicholas Hoyt. How may I be of service?" I asked, but I got nothing but dead air. I call out again, but no dice. I hang up the phone and check the number; nothing I recognize. "Probably just a scammer. Just tell me what's up before I lose my shit." she commanded. "It's about the job..." the phone again. This time it's a text. It reads: "I need you to call me back right now". I look up at Hailey incredulously. "I just got a text asking me to call that number right back. I think it might be work related. Can we please postpone this for one more moment?" I ask. "You know what, go ahead. Take all night if you want to. I'm going to my mom's. I don't know what the hell happened to your energy but it's loud and unbearable. I'm so offset right now I don't even care what's in that stupid box anymore. Whatever it is you have to tell me, you can call or text me" she storms out of the house. In her defence, she's been putting off a trip to her mum's for a while and her professional life has also been unsavoury lately.

I wave Hailey off as she drives away. As she waves back, I can see her exhaling the tension away. I text her quickly: "I hope you and your mom have a good time. I'll be here when you get back. I love you". She texts back: "Thx, I know I blew that out of proportion. My boss needs a fabric that's been backordered for weeks and I've been trying to find anyone around that's willing to part with some, even for a premium. I think I just need some of my mom's famous advice. P.S. if you open that package, you better send me a pic of the contents" she ends the text with a playful emoji. She drives away with the sunset to her back.

I press the dial button next to the phone number from earlier. The phone call is connected, but yet again, no one on the other end. "Hello? You requested I call you back? Are you in need of my services?" more dead air. I wait for a moment before pulling the phone away from my ear. I'm about to hang up when I hear a faint cackling sound. "Hello? Come again?" I asked. "I said - finally, you got your wife out of the house." replied a dry, scratchy voice. A flash of heat radiates from my entire body, my heart feels like it just skipped a beat. "Who is this?" I asked. "My identity is not important right now. This conversation will not be about me, rather - it will only be about you. Call me someone that wants to help." he replied. My heart begins to race. This has every signs of a stalker, and who knows how long this guy has been following me for. "Listen freak, what's to stop me from hanging up and giving the police your number?" I asked. "If you did that, you'd only be delaying the inevitable. I'm trying to help you fast track your epiphany, Nicholas. You've been a man avoiding the truth, avoiding the signs for far too long. You should be a happy man, but you're not." he replied. "I don't need to listen to you. You're crazy, you hear me? I'm going to hang up and give this number to the police. They'll find your name through the phone number registry. Your reign of terror is over!" I said. "Then they will be tracing the number to a Britney Landis. You won't get me that way, Nicholas. This isn't my first rodeo." he said. Just hang up the phone, Nicky, you don't need to humour this animal. "You found my package well today, did you not?" with that, the biggest piece of the puzzle falls in my lap. The mystery package sitting on our kitchen table, is from a madman. There's no point wondering anymore. From the smell, I wager it's a dead squirrel or something. "Hey - jackass? How about I just throw your stupid package away? What do you think of that?" I warned. "Oh Nicky - if you did that, you wouldn't learn nothing now, would ya?" he said. I rush over to the package, knife in hand. "So you want me to open this thing, huh? That it?" I asked angrily. "No, I don't really want you to. You see, Nicholas, I'm using the package as a symbol. The package is the future, its uncertainty is a beautiful thing. You see right now, inside could be anything, a million dollars, a second chance at redemption, an Ashley Madison account with a balance of a thousand dollars on it - Anything! That's a wonderful thought, right Nicholas? Or - on the other hand, you can be boring and open that package and be - disappointed..." he explained. "I'm not going to take part in your sick game!" Nicholas asserted. "Is your life a game? Funny, how is it I take it more seriously than you do? You are a young man in your early thirties, good looking, loving wife, you even have a house, in our housing crisis? That's no small feat. My issue is you've asked for a raise twice now and your boss - pardon, ex-boss kept dodging telling you the truth, that they didn't think you were worth the raise. You've also been denying your depression for months now. You aren't a happy man, Nicholas." I don't know how he knows all of this. It's as if he's been following me closely for years now, and I never looked back. I've been oblivious. "So, here's what we are going to do next. You're going to hang up momentarily to call - or message your wife and finally tell her what happened today. I want you to call me back and tell me her reaction. Then again, you may choose not to call me back... Do you see how much more fun life is when you leave things up to chance, Nick?" I hung up. I can't bare another moment of his madness. Clearly this is a serious issue. The guy has been keeping tabs on me for a long time now, I'm like his religion. Worst of all, he said this isn't his first rodeo. How many more before me? How many more asides from me? The reality is too hard to accept. I must report him somehow. This guy's got to be on Interpol's most wanted or something. I do a quick search on my phone, using his modus operandi as my prompt. There are a couple of hits, both off-state. Reports speak of depressed young adults who were stalked and harassed by some guy who tried to convince them the future is ever-changing, but can be set in stone if we don't make an effort to change it. They call him the Fortune Teller, but I call him an absolute nightmare. There's nothing about a box however, or any package. This must be his first time using this trick. What's so special about it? What has he put in it that makes it smell like a dead rodent? Do I dare open it? His taunts, his words, all jests. If I open it, my fate isn't sealed. I can still learn what's in the package and turn my luck around. I grab hold of the knife once again, and I slice the twine away. I'm moments away from ripping the wrapping paper away when I decide that his words do indeed worry me. One look and my fate could be sealed. It's just a silly box anyways, with some silly stickers and a bad smell wreaking from it, surely this can't represent my life.

I just got off the phone with Hailey. Her reaction to my firing was one of genuine relief. She too was annoyed with the circling around granting me a raise when even she knew I had earned it. For over five years I had made close friends at the company, and not one wished me good luck upon my exit. "This is a chance for a new start." Hailey told me. A fresh start, is it fear that makes me hate the idea, or complacency? Had I become too comfortable in a company where I could just barely stand out. I sell our insurance packages, call it day, then I return home where I feel loved and appreciated. What more could I ask for? Is greed not a sin? If we continue to ask for more and more, do we not lose sight of what we already have, especially if one of those things is happiness?

Who are you kidding, Nicky? Happy? You aren't happy. This so-called fortune teller knows it, even your wife could tell. Hailey has been trying harder than usual to get me to smile. I have been denying a depression haven't I? I've just been feeling so unchallenged in life lately, it may as well be over.

I debate with myself calling this guy back. He's a madman, isn't he? He says calling the police would do nothing, but what if I went to visit the police instead? I could stay within their custody, at least long enough for this creep to bugger off and leave me alone forever. Hailey took the car, but I can still order a ride. I pull out my cell phone, and begin searching through my apps. My thumb hovers over the Uber app, but I find I don't have to strength to open it. Is it strength? No, it is curiosity. As much as I hate to admit it, he has my interest peaked.

"So - you finally decided to take a leap of faith. I'm proud of you thus far, Nicholas." he says, his voice unchanging, like an old smoker. I can admit he has me hanging on the edge of my seat, but I will no longer let him hold all the cards. "I took a moment to do some research. They call you the Fortune Teller, isn't that right?" I said. "The tabloids call me the Fortune Teller, but that's not what I am. I don't pretend to be a tarot reader or waving my hand over some cliche, crystal ball." he says begrudgingly. "So what would you have me call you then?" I asked. "Me? I'm not important here. You can consider me the shadow of God. Omniscient - all-seeing - and willing to exact vengeance when necessary. You see, Nicholas, I realized a long time ago I had nothing to give to the world. I was a nobody from a nothing family. My father left us when I was five years old. My mom and my sister were scared but I couldn't understand it. This was our chance at a brighter future, but they didn't see that. My mother acted like her life was over. I saw her for what she was; free - but she never changed. She got a measly job at a diner, took every shift she could, and every night she cried praying my no-good father would return to us. That's the moment I realized, she wasn't free. She willed herself to remain broken and dependant. It was at that very moment when I knew what I had to offer the world." he explained. "Man - you are sick you know that? You may have gotten away with your first two victims, but your reign of terror ends with me!" I hung up. Deciding I have had enough, I order that Uber. I'm going to the police, I'm going to give them the phone number, and I'm going to tell them everything I know, and everything he told me. This charade is over!

I'm waiting by the front door, my Uber should arrive in five minutes. My heart beat is racing, but I don't feel scared, I feel good. I never imagined myself being a hero, but today was a funny day, wasn't it? I laugh to myself when the scent hits me. It's the package, I can smell it from here. The package that he prepared for me, to taunt me with. In his deranged mind, the package represents the future, and leaving it unopened suggests we still have the power to change our fate. What rubbish! Wouldn't opening the package and finding out the truth be a better symbol of taking control of one's destiny than leaving things to the imagination? A rush over to it, and rip apart the wrapping paper impatiently. Upon opening the box, I immediately see a sea of blood soaked packing peanuts. I reach in, and pull out a disgusting mannequin head. It smells like rotten flesh. Moments away from tossing it in the trash I notice a peculiar detail. The face was shaped to look like mine.

Suddenly, a sharp pain hits the right side of my neck and sweeps clean through to the left. I lose feeling in my legs, and then my arms. I cannot breathe. I am falling. My head strikes the ground and begins rolling away from my body. The last thing my mind registers before my vision fades entirely is the lower half of a stranger holding a blood stained kitana. You should have just waited for your Uber, Nicholas, and left the package for the cops. I suppose I could have, but where's the fun in that? After all, it is our choice to do what isn't expected of us which makes life worth living.

The End